I remember the day I met you. We were young, only six years old, playing on the swings. I fell and skinned my knee, and you offered your hand to me.
From then on, we were inseparable. Through the hard times and the good times, through tears of joy and tears of sadness, you were always there. From the first crush to the first kiss and the first broken heart, you were there
always there with me.
One day when we were sixteen, we were walking home from school and took a shortcut through an alley. We didnt know it, but we were being followed. He came up from behind and I felt a gun barrel push against my back. He said if we screamed he would kill us.
I thought he just wanted money, but it was more than that. He pulled us into an abandoned building and started ripping off our clothes. He held our hands down and starting raping us. I couldnt move, couldnt scream, couldnt cry. It was all I could do to keep from falling apart completely. I looked at you and you looked back at me, unable to make a single expression.
When he finished he pointed his gun again and said if we told anyone he would kill us. And then he left.
Shaking, I began to gather my clothes, virginal blood seeping down my thighs. I looked around, but couldnt find you. I ran up to the broken mirror in the dust ridden room, but you still werent there.
You were gone.
That was the day I lost you.